Slowly the coffin was carried out to the churchyard, and though some of the older members of the congregation moved straight to the welcoming warmth of the hall, most people followed to the graveside.
As she watched the short burial ceremony, Mad’s eyes filled with tears. “Goodbye Madge,” she whispered. “Thanks for everything, I’ll remember what you said… and I’ll look after Spike for you.” Cirelle, standing with her, reached out and they gripped hands tightly as the coffin was lowered into the ground.
The wind was cutting and it was with some relief that the gathered mourners moved into the warmth of the hall. Mavis had done Madge proud and there was a huge spread of sandwiches, cakes, biscuits and savouries. There was hot tea to warm everyone up and there was also stronger drink for those who wanted it.
When everyone was inside, Andrew asked for their attention for a moment.
“I just wanted to thank you all, on my mother’s behalf, for coming today. She always said she wanted a good send-off, with a party. You know how much she enjoyed a good party, so that’s what we want now. No long faces please, she’d have hated that. Just raise your glasses or teacups and we’ll drink to the memory of my mother, your friend, Madge.”
“Madge. To Madge.” The voices echoed round the hall, then as that was clearly the end of the formalities, the buzz of conversation increased again as people chatted, talking about Madge and the memories they had of her, catching up on news or just gossiping happily.
Alison Forrester drifted over to where Jill Hammond was standing alone, a cup of tea in her hand. “Hi,” she said. “Had a nice time at your mum’s?” and added as Jill looked surprised, “Isabelle said you were away.”
Though Paul had told her about seeing Jill at the rowdy student party the previous Saturday night, and as intrigued as she had been at the time, Alison was not going to mention it. Now she had other things to occupy her mind in which Jill’s partying did not feature.
Jill forced a smile. “Of course. Yes, thanks, we had a very pleasant quiet few days. Mum likes to have the children to stay from time to time.” Silence fell between them, and Jill said, “And how are your two? Are you coping all right with working as well?”
“Yes, it’s not too bad,” Alison replied, and then said, “We’ve had some bad luck, actually. We heard yesterday that Paul will be redundant at the end of the year.”
“Oh no!” Jill’s eyes widened with sympathy. “Oh, Alison, I am sorry. What will you do? I mean, will he be able to find another job fairly easily?”
Alison shrugged. “Don’t know. I doubt it somehow, but of course he’s going to start looking today. If he doesn’t find something pretty quickly we shall have to move. We shan’t be able to afford to stay in the Circle. It’s so unfair,” she burst out. “When he was head-hunted from Freddie Jones he was promised the world… more money, a partnership in the near future, and then it’s suddenly cuts, cuts, cuts! In September everyone in his office agreed to take a pay cut to avoid redundancies, and now Johnson, Fountain is being taken over by the Belcaster & Belshire Building Society, and they’re all redundant anyway! That bastard James Fountain must have been negotiating with the Belcaster all the time, while everyone was tightening their belts to save the firm. He gets a bloody great pay-out, and what do we get? Nothing, and Paul’s office is closed due to amalgamation.” She suddenly realised that she was shaking and her hands were balled into fists of rage and she gave a bitter smile, “Sorry,” she said, “it’s just that I’m so angry about it, and I can’t let go in front of Paul, because he’s already on a major guilt trip. He thinks it’s all his fault for leaving Freddie in the first place.”
“Well that’s just silly,” Jill told her firmly. “At the time it would have been stupid to refuse such an offer. He wasn’t to know there’d be a takeover, no one was. You won’t really have to move, will you?”
Alison shrugged. “I really don’t know. I hope not. No, it probably won’t come to that. He must be able to find something, to tide him over at least.” She glanced up and saw Angela Haven coming over to join them and said softly, “Don’t say anything in front of Angela, will you? We aren’t saying anything to anybody much. I just told you because of Isabelle. I mean, I shan’t be able to afford her anymore.”
Jill nodded her understanding, and as Angela came up beside them she turned and smiled.
“Hello, Angela. Haven’t seen you for a while. How are things? How’s Annabel?”
“Getting bigger,” smiled Angela, “but fine actually. Fran is very pleased with her.”
They fell into easy discussion of pregnancies, births and babies. No one mentioned Ian, and Angela didn’t either. They would all see soon enough that he was back in the Circle and that things in the Haven household were pretty much back to normal.
“I see Jill Hammond’s back,” Sheila Colby remarked to Mary Jarvis as they sat together the other side of the room.
“I didn’t know she’d been away,” Mary said, sipping her tea.
“Left after that dreadful party,” Sheila said darkly. “You know she was there… at the party I mean?”
“Yes,” Mary said dryly, “you did mention it.”
“Without her husband too. He was outside complaining about the noise, and then suddenly there she was coming out of one of the student’s bedrooms.”
“Oh, come on now, Sheila, you don’t know she was in a bedroom.”
“Yes I do,” stated Sheila firmly. “They’ve made the downstairs study into a bedroom, I’ve seen it, and they were coming out of that.”
“Perhaps she was just leaving her coat or something,” suggested Mary without any real conviction.
Sheila looked at her pityingly. “If you believe that, Mary, you’ll believe anything. You should have seen Anthony Hammond’s face!” She leaned closer to speak more confidingly. “It was the student with the pony-tail, and I haven’t seen him in the Circle since, either.”
“Been keeping watch, have you?”
“No,” snapped Sheila defensively, “certainly not, but I see them all about, same as you do. Anyway, I think he doesn’t live there anymore, and Jill Hammond’s been away ever since too. She’s supposed to have been at her mother’s, at least that’s what that French girl told me, but I was beginning to wonder if they’d gone off together.”
“Sheila, you’re impossible,” cried Mary in exasperation. “You put two and two together and make about ninety-five! Jill often takes her children to stay with her mother.”
“In the term-time?” asked Sheila with a knowing lift of her eyebrows.
At that moment, Gerald rejoined them with another plate of sandwiches. “Now then,” he said cheerfully, “Which reputations are you two shredding?”
“Gerald, how dare you say such a thing,” Sheila protested, but he thought that Mary had the grace to look uncomfortable. To change the subject he said, “Well here’s another piece of gossip for you. Shirley’s just been telling me that Melanie is going back home next week. She’s feeling so much better, now that they’re sure she will be able to cope.”
“Wasn’t she having counselling?” asked Sheila, turning to Mary, “Didn’t I hear that from somewhere?”
“I’m sure you did,” Mary said crisply. “Look, I’m just going over to have a word with Vera. She hasn’t been to St Joe’s lately because she’s had the flu.” Mary set down her teacup and leaving Sheila and Gerald together she went across to where the old lady was sitting, watching everyone round her.
“Oh, hello dear,” she greeted Mary cheerfully as she came over, “This is a sad day, i’n’it? That old Madge was a game bird, eh? Ninety, ’er son was tellin’ me. An’ Frank says she was one of them what started this place. ’E weren’t ’ere then of course, neither was I, but she done a good thing startin’ it, eh?” Mary agreed she had. “That black girl, that Cirelle, she’s an ’elp an’ all,” Vera went on as she watched Cirelle and Madeleine handing round plates for Mavis. She ’elps Shirley an’ ’er girl, don’t she? ’Ere
, Shirley,” Vera called to where Shirley was collecting a second cup of tea. She came over carrying her cup.
“Hello, Vera,” she smiled. “Want another cup?”
“No thanks, dear. I’ve ’ad two and I don’t want to spend the rest of the day in the lav, do I?” She cackled her irrepressible laugh, making Cirelle turn round. She too, came over to join them, bringing the sandwiches.
“Sandwich, Vera?” she offered.
“I might manage one more,” Vera said, helping herself.
“Cirelle,” Shirley said, “could we have a word?”
Cirelle smiled at her. “Yeah, of course.” She set down the plate of sandwiches conveniently near Vera’s elbow and they moved out of earshot.
“I’m sorry Melanie has been a bit difficult this week,” Shirley began, but Cirelle cut her off.
“Look Shirley, no sweat, OK? It’s not a problem.” Cirelle stretched out her hands in a dismissive gesture. “Don’t worry OK? It’s the end of term and I’m busy anyway. Next term they’ll have gone and I’ll find another job.” She glanced round the room and said, “I’d better get on with helping, I promised Mavis.” With a quick grin, she walked away, over to the table, leaving Shirley feeling as if she’d been rebuffed.
“I hear Mel’s decided to go home,” said a voice, and Shirley turned to find Dr Fran beside her.
“Oh, hello Fran. Yes, though if I’m honest, I’m very worried about it. Since she’s been seeing that counsellor, she’s much more in control of things and seems to have developed a much better bond with the baby, but I’m not sure how she’ll cope if all that is put under any pressure. Still, she’s determined to go, and I’m afraid David is encouraging her. He finds it a great strain having them living in our house.”
“And you don’t?” asked Fran gently.
“Well, I do of course, probably more than David if the truth were known, because I’m the buffer between the two of them, but if she goes too soon, everything may get worse than it was before.”
“But I thought Peter had changed his job, and would be at home more.”
“He has, and I’m sure that will be a great help… if he does actually take some of the strain off Mel’s shoulders.”
“But at least she’ll have someone to talk to in the evenings, to share her day with, She must have been awfully lonely before.”
“Yes, I think she must have been,” admitted Shirley. “Anyway she’s off next week and then we’re supposed to be going there for Christmas. We shall see then how she’s getting on. To tell you the truth, I’m wondering if we might need to move to be nearer to them.”
“Grief, what does David say to that?”
“I haven’t even suggested it,” murmured Shirley glancing anxiously over her shoulder to where David was talking to Andrew, “not yet. But it is in the back of my mind. If we were just closer we could pop in and out from time to time and not always have to go and stay… on a sort of state visit! You know what I mean?”
Fran nodded. “Yes, I do. But would you really want to do that, what about David’s garden?”
Shirley smiled ruefully. “I don’t know. He’d have to start another one. We could find a smaller house, ours is really too big…”
“Except when it’s full of grandchildren,” put in Fran helpfully.
“Except when it’s full of grandchildren,” agreed Shirley, “but if we lived nearby they wouldn’t have to come and stay with us either.”
“That might sell it to David,” Fran pointed out.
“It might.” Shirley sighed. “Anyway I’m not going to even broach the subject until after Christmas, then, well, we’ll see.” Then changing the subject she said, “I gather Madge went very peacefully in the end. She really was amazing, wasn’t she?”
“Yes. Just fell asleep in her chair and didn’t wake up. That’s the way to go,” said Fran. “Look, Shirley, there’s Madeleine from the student house, I just want a word with her.”
As Fran crossed to speak to Madeleine, Annie Hooper wandered over to Shirley.
“Hope you enjoyed all the music on Saturday night,” she said with a grin. “It sounded quite good from our house!”
Shirley smiled ruefully. “We were a little close to it I must admit.”
“Was it Sheila Colby who sent for the police? That was a bit over the top, we thought.”
Shirley’s lips tightened. “No,” she said. “That was Melanie. The noise had woken her little ones and they were driving her mad.”
“Oh.” Annie gave an embarrassed smile. “Sorry.”
“How are you enjoying having Steve’s children with you full-time?” Shirley asked. Her question was innocent enough. She had no knowledge of the family politics that governed the Hooper family’s life; but Annie assumed that she was getting back at her for the remark about the police, and answered very coolly, “Fine, thank you. It’s nice to be a real family.”
Mary Jarvis came up with a plate of cakes, and holding out, said “Anyone want one of these? Home-made this morning.”
“No thanks,” Annie shook her head, “ I must get back. I only took an hour off from work.” And she edged towards the door.
“I’m glad you came over, Mary,” sighed Shirley, “I think I’d upset her, but I’m not sure why. I just asked her how she was getting on with the children.”
“Ah.” Mary’s tone was all understanding. “She isn’t, I think is the answer. The girl isn’t too bad, but the boy, Oliver, I believe is very difficult. Always off where he shouldn’t be. Madge used to say that he’d be in some sort of trouble before too long.”
“That’s funny,” Shirley said. “David swears he saw him out late the other night. Oliver, if it was Oliver, was coming out of the cut, and bumped into David. David sort of grabbed at him and the boy nearly knocked him over, and then ran back into the cut. David was quite shaken, I can tell you. He went over to the Hoopers’, but when he knocked on the door, Steve appeared from upstairs and said that they were all in bed, including Oliver.”
“Did he check? Steve, I mean, that Oliver was really there.”
“Apparently he went to look and said Oliver was in bed; said David must’ve been mistaken. David could hardly insist on looking for himself, but he’s still quite sure it was Oliver.”
“Poor Annie,” Mary said. “When she married Steve, she only took him. The children were apparently happily with their mother. Which reminds me. Caroline Callow was round the other day, looking for Mike. Did you know he’d gone away?”
“Well, I haven’t seen him around for a while, but quite honestly I don’t take much notice of him, so I wouldn’t know.” Shirley smiled wickedly. “Sheila would be the one to ask.”
Mary grinned too. “That’s actually what I told Caroline. I said I hadn’t seen him, but Sheila would probably know more. She was worried because his phone was permanently on the answerphone and he hadn’t returned any of her calls. He said something about visiting a sick friend.”
“Then he’s gone Bunburying,” Shirley said. “He’ll be back.
*
Annabel left college early that afternoon. Her final lecture had been cancelled, which suited her very well. She was very tired and longed to get home. It would be the first weekend with Dad there properly. He had been living back at home since last Sunday, and though things had seemed strange at first, and Chantal had been more than difficult to live with this week, for Annabel it had been wonderful to come home every evening and find him at the supper table. Her mother, too had blossomed again, like a plant that had been allowed to dry out and then suddenly received a dousing of water. As she lay in bed and heard the faint murmur of her parents’ voices in the next room, Annabel felt a sadness for her own baby, that it would never have a father to love as she loved hers. Not having a father, not living with a father was a large chunk out of a person’s life. It was something she wanted to talk through with Charlie when she got home.
She’s due back today, Annabel thought as she set off to the library to collect
a book that had been ordered for her. Charlie had rung her on Monday evening to say that Kirsty was going to be fine, and was already well on the road to recovery. She and Mike would be home on Friday afternoon.
Belcaster library was in Crosshills and so having collected her book she set off home, taking the back way along the allotment track towards the cut into Dartmouth Circle. She never came home this way in the dark, but today the faded winter light still filled the sky and it was much quicker than going all the way round by the Dartmouth Road. As she walked, she heard a car coming up behind her, so she stepped on to the verge to allow it to pass. To her surprise, it pulled up beside her. It was a dirty white van and as it stopped she realised with a lurch that Scott was driving. He flung open the driver’s door so that it blocked her way, and he got out. Another man got out from the other side and came round behind the van, trapping her between them. She spun round and found herself facing a younger version of Scott, standing behind her, blocking her retreat.
“Bel.” Scott spoke calmly. “I want a word with you, right?”
“What about?” Annabel said croakily, suddenly afraid.
“Get in the van.”
“No way!” cried Annabel, and then gasped and dropped her bag, reeling as he hit her a backhander across her face.
“I said get in the van.” Scott raised his arm again, and Annabel lurched away from him, straight into the waiting arms of his brother.
“Put ’er in the back, Bazzer,” ordered Scott, and Annabel found herself dragged round to the back of the van and bundled inside. Scott got in after her and Bazzer closed the doors.
“Now then,” Scott said. “You grassed me up.”
The only light that came into the back of the van filtered through from the cab, and Annabel could just make out Scott’s face as he glowered at her. She stared at him blankly.
“I don’t like that, Bel,” he said.
“What are you talking about?” Annabel cried, at last finding her voice. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, I think you do, Bel. You went to the filth and told ’em about the computer-shop job. You told ’em where my garage is, and now I’m likely to be banged up for over a year. More than a year, Bel, and it’s down to you.”
The New Neighbours Page 41